When we do our scales

I don't always ask the best questions. I don't always say the right things. I don't always give good first impressions.

I'm a connector. Guy says so. I make connections. Between people. Between stories. Between points.

Today, Bach came to her piano lesson and worked her way through some arpeggios. She wanted for me to fix them so badly. She knew there had to be something she was doing wrong.

The problem for me was, there wasn't anything to fix.

They were normal.

This morning I took my charts and my questions in to my doctor. She sat in front of me baffled as to what she could say. I wanted to know why I wasn't pregnant. Or at least, that is what I asked. It wasn't what I wanted to ask though.

I don't always ask the right questions.

She told me there were no tests to tell me why. She told me we had only been trying for 2 months. Which is inaccurate in my mind. In my mind, we have been trying since October. Not the point though.

When she looked at my charts and said that she really didn't have anything she could tell me, I teared up. I wanted for her to say something so badly.

Then she said, "I don't know what you want from me. This all looks normal."

And then I stopped. I looked up and literally pointed my finger at her.

"That's it. That's my answer. I needed to hear from you that this all looked normal."

So she said it again. It all looks normal. Keep trying.

Do Re Mi Do. Do Re Mi Do.